


Last Days on Pentamus

by Pentamus



Category: Original Work
Genre: Clockpunk, Fantasy, Grimdark, Monsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 22:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15204506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pentamus/pseuds/Pentamus
Summary: For the citizens of Pentamus, the city-sized creature that they ride is their home, their God, and their whole world. When Jayx, a promising message runner, stumbles across an impossible stranger, her whole life is thrown into chaos. The man claims that another creature has been yoked by its denizens and turned into an engine of war. They are ruthless, unrelenting, and on their way. Now the two of them need to find a way to trust each other and work together to help make their society realize that war is coming, and that their God will not save them.





	Last Days on Pentamus

Last Days On Pentamus

Thane 1  
Thane hung on as best he could, which wasn’t very well. Sprite hadn’t been saddled for flight, and trying to ride a roc without a saddle was only marginally safer than jumping into thin air. The great bird still had some chains harnessed to her midsection, their broken links drifting uselessly in the airstream behind them. Thane had curled his fingers through some of the oversized links on a chain that ran across the back of Sprite’s neck, lined his body up between the massive bird’s beating wings, and hunkered down. Years of training and practice had made all of this second nature, but that had been when he still had thumbs. Thane looked again at the cauterized stumps on each hand. It was strange to have a part of his body feel like it was in agony and at the same time like it wasn’t there anymore.  
“I’ll bet that fades eventually.” he thought, “Assuming I make it to eventually.” His body jounced as Sprite flapped unevenly and screeched. He was obviously struggling and in pain.  
“Easy girl.” Thane cooed, loud enough to be heard over the wind. “First high place you see, take us down. I don’t care if the mountain is moving or not, you land and I’ll patch you up.” Thane knew the arrow was somewhere near the left breast, which meant that it hurt Sprite every time she flapped her wings. “Soon girl,” he soothed over the racing wind, “You heard them. There’s got to be another creature in this direction. Can’t be more than 50 kilometers or so. You’ve got better eyes than I do, make them count.” She flapped another awkward stroke and Thane almost lost his hold. Dammit, this was hard enough before the injury started wearing on the poor girl. He could feel his body begin to shiver with the cold, all the adrenaline of their escape finally draining out of him. His clothing was worn and ripped, and the metal collar around his neck was turning cold as ice. He wanted to steer Sprite lower, but knew that regaining elevation with her injury would be torturous. No, once we start down, we’ll keep going down until we land. And if we don’t find someplace safer than the ground, then we’re finished. He started giggling. “Well,” he said, “I may have lost my home, my friends, my family, my damned thumbs, I may be freezing and bloody, and about to fall a very long way to my end, but- I did get out.” “We got out.” he amended, “You hear that, Sprite? They said no one ever got out, but we did. Ha ha ha. How do you like that?”  
“Ki ki kuk kuk ki.” Sprite responded. It wasn’t her distress call like before. She was responding to the positive tone in his voice.  
“Thats right, girl!” Thane yelled over the wind, “We’re not done yet!” Sprite jerked and Thane tried to burrow deeper under the massive flight feathers. Her wingbeats became irregular and lopsided. Something had finally snapped in the massive bird. They started losing altitude, fast.

 

Jayx 1  
Jayx ran. She ran along fences and through markets. She sprinted through back alleys, dodging around merchants and ignoring the brass thugs that hassled passers-by. Jayx always ran as if some unfathomable beast from the world below was nipping at her sash. She never kept a reserve tank of energy, which forced her to dig deeper every time she had to go just a bit further. For Jayx every day as a messenger was one long sprint through the town, her routes criss-crossing each other chaotically as she snapped up every delivery she could.  
Jayx mounted a table outside of Ironside's Tavern and launched herself over the worn scale fence and into the backyard of Gemma's bakery. It was no accident that Gemma had established her bakery next to the busiest pub in town; nor was it a coincidence that her bakers were always pulling fresh sweets out of the oven just when the regulars began stumbling home in the early hours of the morning. Gemma had earned a reputation for shrewd thinking and planning ahead that had eventually garnered her a seat on the town council as the head of the Merchant’s Guild. Jayx stuck her landing and spun around a portly baker carrying a tray full of sweet rolls for the ovens. She slid sideways through the back door before it closed, the metal clasps on her harness scraping against the wood. The kitchens crammed into the rear of Gemma's store were cluttered and bustling even this late in the afternoon. Jayx took a deep breath while she noted obstacles, then weaved toward the front counter, sliding under prep tables and twirling expertly past startled assistants. She popped up next to Gemma in a puff of flour as she wrote customer orders onto wheat paper with a wrapped charcoal nub. Jayx waited patiently, her chest heaving, while Gemma finished up with the young lady she was talking to and told the next customer to bide a moment.  
She turned to Jayx, looked her up and down, brushed a bit of flour from her shoulders, and stated confidently, "Knew you'd get here first. You usually do." She pulled an envelope out of her apron, dusted it free of powdered sugar, and held it out to Jayx. With the speed and precision of an expert she drew a sap-stamper from her harness, sealed the envelope with the emblem of the Messenger's Guild to ensure its confidentiality, holstered the stamp, and gingerly slid the envelope into a stiff leather tube strapped into her harness. Gemma slid four steel links off of a ring on her apron and dropped two of them into Jayx's open palm.  
"This is for getting it to the Hiles', you know that house on the hill with the crazy doors?" Jayx nodded silently. Gemma dropped the other links into her hand.  
"This is for getting it there before the next bell. And this-” Gemma nabbed a cloth bag off a back counter. It was wrapped in Twine and had her name scrawled on the tag that dangled from its top. “-is for telling your father my offer of dinner still stands.” Gemma tossed the bag to Jayx, who deftly caught it, gave it a sniff, and strapped it carefully inside the leather cinch sack on her back.  
“Can’t you ask him at the next Council meeting?” she asked.  
“I can,” she replied, “but I like my odds better with you in my corner. Now scoot, child, time is metal. You know that well as anyone.” With that she turned back to her customers. Jayx hopped the counter, carefully avoiding the displays and the noisy children that seemed a permanent fixture of Gemma’s shop.  
Jayx burst out of the shop and sped toward the central square, her green sash and ribbons billowing in her wake. She raced through the merchant district, with its lofted businesses housing shopkeepers and their families. Most of the buildings were made of carved scale with wooden trim and fixtures, and they were all wedged tightly together; like a mouth with too many teeth for its gums. She tore into the town's main square from the fore port corner and almost crashed headlong into a crowd that was milling outside the temple. Its vast lofted doors, slatted with Steelwood and riveted together with gold and silver filigree, stood wide open. Jayx had forgotten that it was the week before the Reckoning Day festival, and that the temple would be crowded and hectic until then. She knew her sister was likely somewhere in the crowd, or possibly in the temple proper, but had neither the time nor desire to seek her out. One of the younger acolytes, who Jayx had been schooled alongside, tried to wave her down. Jayx checked the bamboo pole in front of the temple's towering edifice, saw no green pennant to indicate a message in need of delivering, gave a curt nod of recognition to the boy, and picked her way through the mob of organizers, clergy, volunteers, and layabouts.  
Jayx clawed her way out the opposite side of the crowd and tore off once again, heading slightly uphill toward the Guild Hall. Even from a distance she was able to recognize the Guildmaster for the Messenger's Guild in her bright green robes. Jayx slowed as she approached Showing deference to the leader of her profession was always worth a few seconds of lost inertia. The Guildmaster motioned for her to approach. Jayx altered course and skidded to a stop in a cloud of dust that enveloped the Guildmaster and the temple acolyte she was conversing with. Jayx panted through a woolen sash she held against her mouth to avoid the dissipating dust. As it cleared she noticed the acolyte was in full ceremonial garb; black in front, grey behind, with two sets of false eyes painted along the sides of his face. To complete the mimicry of Pentamus's visage the bottom left eye was closed and scarred over, just as the behemoth's had always been. The acolyte was one that Jayx was unfamiliar with, a younger, gangly youth who had just begun to grow stubble. He tried in vain to brush the dust from his robes, his irritation in sharp contrast to the Guildmaster's calm amusement. The acolyte opened his mouth to speak, coughed on dust, and was promptly cut off by the Guildmaster, who concluded their conversation by declaring,  
"It will take them longer with the town bustling like this. Blaming them for the delays would be foolish." She then patted the acolyte on the back and motioned for Jayx to follow as she walked briskly out of the square. Guildmaster Axo had a runners build; lanky, wiry, and bristling with taut muscles underneath a thin figure. Despite her age, somewhere in the forties, she rarely stopped moving, perhaps due to a childhood spent delivering messages and climbing the ranks within the guild.  
She leaned close to Jayx and instructed, "You're one of my fastest. Do me a favor and avoid any temple jobs until after the ceremony. If they want to take us for granted let them see what happens without us".  
"Yes madam." Jayx replied with due deference, "Do you need anything else of me?"  
Axo looked her up and down a moment, gauging her potential. " You're only sixteen," she declared, "but I hear good things. Keep your times down and your dues coming and you'll be a full voting member in no time. Now I hope I haven't delayed you overly." This appeared to signal the end of their conversation.  
Jayx nodded politely and took off uphill again, pouring on every ounce of speed she could muster to make up for lost time. Pentamus sloped gradually upward toward the middle, and the fore slope of its hump provided the best views, excepting of course for the rim or its head, which were far too dangerous to build upon. As a result, the houses on the upslope were ostentatious, sprawling complexes that housed the town's more affluent and powerful residents. The Hiles lived midway up the slope in a well-appointed manor with many fore-facing windows and a unique sliding door; it's steel track-and-bearing frame made it a priceless centerpiece. The Hile family had been in the business of gathering raw materials and reselling them to the Guilds for generations, allowing them to acquire such unnecessary luxury. Jayx slowed as she approached the grounds, noticing a fixer patching up one of their immense dew collectors. She recognized the man from her father's shop. Half the tools on his belt had been forged in the furnace by her house and bore the its double hammer stamp. She waved without slowing and sped on, not waiting to see if he remembered her. She reached the doors with nothing but fire in her lungs and acid coursing through her veins. She bent over, hands on knees, and sucked in dry, alpine air. After several reinvigorating breaths Jayx straightened up and clapped three times to announce her arrival.  
It was Mother Hile who came out to greet her through the ostentatious doors. She wore an expensive looking but austere black woolen dress complete with shawl and hood. Her pleasure at a welcome visitor shone through her sun-worn face and thinning hair. She motioned for Jayx to enter but before she could take a step forward the sound of the great bell rang down from the tower near Pentamus' central summit. With the same practiced motions she used at least a dozen times every day when the bell rang, Jayx unhooked the grapple from the center of her harness, unwound a few feet of slack chain, and flung it expertly around a nearby wooden beam. She heard a satisfying clink as the grapple hooked onto its own feed line. Jayx windmilled her arm, wrapping the rope around it several times, then pulled in the slack and readied herself. This had all been accomplished in a matter of seconds, during which time Madam Hile had retrieved an embossed steel hook with cross handle from her dress and firmly attached herself to a large table nearby. Both women silently braced for impact.  
Pentamus finished taking a step, its enormous leg crashing down on the world below, sending shockwaves throughout its monolithic body. Houses shook, people stumbled, and anything not fastened tightly rattled or clattered to the floor. For the community of almost six hundred people who lived atop the creature’s back, this was an almost hourly occurrence. The creature's six massive legs elevated its towering, unsegmented body well into the clouds. The world below was a blur of muddled greens, browns, and blues glimpsed on the horizon or over the rim of Pentamus' scale-encrusted hide. The only city on Pentamus was nestled among the foothills leading up to a central hump that ran along the beast's spine. The denizens avoided the creature's head and the areas directly above its legs; the behemoth’s constant glacial movements made those areas dangerous for any amount of time. When the monster bent its head to gulp acres of water or engulf and filter tons of topsoil the rapid pressure and elevation changes induced nosebleeds and blackouts in all but the hardiest of its passengers. Which was why the experienced collectors trained and employed by madam Hile and her family were so invaluable. Many guilds and craftsmen relied on the brief moments when Pentamus ate and drank to snag as much raw material as they could. Aside from the occasional storm and the trickle of moisture leached from the clouds by web-like collectors dotting Pentimus' higher regions, resources like clay, sand, water, and salt only came from the world below. Metal was almost nonexistent, for Pentamus could not digest dense metals, and so avoided rocky or ore-filled earth. The result was that the denizens of Pentamus valued, traded, and endlessly recycled anything metallic.  
Madam Hile resumed her welcome as if the interruption had never occurred. “Welcome, messenger. May I offer you a drink?”  
“No thank you, Madam.” Jayx replied, “Lots of green flags down in the city today.” Jayx retrieved Gemma’s note from her tube and gingerly handed it to madam Hile, who nodded her thanks. After slitting the seal with her hook, Hile scanned the letter and pursed her thin lips.  
“What a shame,” she muttered, “Gemma’s boys have the fever. Can’t have them around or it might spread to my other workers.” She glanced up at Jayx, her gaze calculating but not unfriendly. “You’ve filled in a bit since we last received a letter from your hand, girl. Any chance you’d like to track down one of my aoudads, he wandered up into the woods yesterday.”  
“Ma'am?” Jayx blurted, taken aback. She wasn’t used to getting random job offers. “Don’t you have a shepherd that does that?”  
Hile replied, “Usually Jocaim has no problem finding a stray, but he’s had both his girls look all this morning and can’t spare them again. I know it’s not your profession, but I’ll bet you could cover a lot of ground. Of course, I’d pay you well if you could bring the silly beast home.”  
Jayx considered momentarily. Going on a wild goat chase would mean missing out on a lot of messages, but doing a personal favor for the head of the most prestigious family on Pentamus could have greater benefits. Jayx had always wanted to go with the collectors as they rode Pentamus’ head down to the ground below, and the Hiles family practically owned the Collector’s Guild. If she could get approved to pass through the neck gate and get a chance to harvest, a single afternoon off from running messages was a small price to pay. “He’s up among the trees? You’re sure a roc didn’t nab him?” Jayx said.  
Madam Hile considered, then responded, “Well I certainly hope not. But we haven’t seen a roc in days, and I think there’d be some signs in any case.”  
Jayx nodded and said, “I’ll try. But I’m not promising anything.”  
“Excellent.” A thin smile creaked across Madam Hile’s drawn face. If we don’t see you by sundown I’ll assume you couldn’t find him. He’s a big male, so keep an eye on him if you do catch him, he’s stubborn as can be.”  
She left Jayx with that, slowly shutting the doors, and turning back toward her study and her work. Jayx strolled off the grounds, enjoying a chill wind and gazing down at the city, its sprawling expanse latched onto and built into the rise on Pentamus’ back and port side. A smattering of green pennants dotted roofs and spires made of timber and scale. The whole world was visible through wispy clouds in almost every direction all the way to the horizon, and Jayx savored seeing it from a rarefied perspective. She shielded her eyes with her hand and spotted the twinkling of a lake near the horizon, Pentamus’ likely destination. Irregular patches of brown earth and green, fuzzy trees splattered the landscape in between, future food for the giant atop which they all rode. She started upslope at a leisurely pace, entering the shadowy woods and enjoying the scents of pine and loamy earth. She jogged upwards for a few minutes, then left the trail and started looking for signs of a big goat passing through. She crisscrossed upwards through the woods, being as methodical as possible. After an hour of fruitless searching, marked by Pentamus’ next step, her hunger got the better of her. On a whim she decided to climb an steelwood tree near the main path, finding a comfortable crook to wedge herself into, and opened the bag Gemma had given her earlier. Inside was a pile of honeyed goat’s milk scones and few slips of strawberry preserves.  
Gemma must have really wanted her to put in a good word with her father. She tucked in, enjoying the view as the thin clouds wafted by. Once she had finished, she decided to rest her eyes for a moment and let the food settle.  
Jayx awoke falling, and reacted purely on instinct. She twirled, loosing her grapple skywards without aiming. By pure luck it snagged a strong fork in the branches and arrested her fall, her harness biting into her shoulders and waist despite the leather padding. Jayx caught her breath and quickly realized she was only a few centimeters off the ground, having only fallen about two meters. She felt grateful that no one was around to catch the show. Pulling the latch that retracted the claws from her grapple, Jayx nimbly touched down and deftly caught the grapple as it dropped from the branches, letting her harness take in the remaining slack. The sky had turned a light umber since she had lidded her eyes and Jayx realized with some alarm that she must of slept another hour of the afternoon away. The combination of her typical heavy workout and Gemma’s food bribe had snuck up on her. It was only the next footfall of Pentamus that had led to her uncomfortable awakening. Looking downslope, Jayx saw hardly any green pennants fluttering in the remaining breeze below her. The few died strips of dark green cloth struck a hard contrast against the orange-tinted cirrus clouds that had appeared while she dozed. She stretched briefly and then spotted some disturbed ground nearby. There were scuff marks on the ground, and a broken branch nearby. Jayx followed the tracks, hopeful that she had finally spotted her quarry.  
She hadn’t gone far when she spotted the first drops of blood. She inspected the tracks more closely and made sure she was following them in the right direction. The vague scuffs and clear spots in the pine needles and detritus didn’t look like they were made by hooves, but she couldn’t place them. She bent low and spotted some leaves smeared with blood, but there wasn’t any hair stuck on branches. That too, seemed odd. Another few minutes and the trail became sloppier and easier to follow. There were long marks in the soil where her quarry had dragged its legs, and more smears and drops of blood. She saw a splotch of blood more than a meter high on the trunk of a tree and started getting worried. There weren’t any predators on Pentamus, apart from the massive rocs that dove out of the sky. But she couldn’t think of anything that could be that tall. The fully grown male aoudads didn’t get much taller than one and a half meters. Then she saw the handprint. It was high on a tree, and made in blood that was still tacky. She examined the tracks again and saw them for what they were: human footprints, made by someone injured and stumbling through the forest. But they hadn’t headed downhill toward the city, instead moving laterally across Pentamus. Jayx was afraid, but she knew someone was injured, acting irrationally, and obviously needed help. So, she pushed down her fear and started forward again, moving as fast as she dared without losing the bloody trail. It only took a few minutes before she came to a shallow cave. Jayx saw a figure inside, lying still and crumpled against the far wall.  
“Hello?” Jayx asked, then louder, “Do you need help?” There was no response. “Crap.” Jayx mumbled to herself, then took her grapple in one hand and approached cautiously. She didn’t wish to harm this person, but they were injured and acting irrationally, and you could never be sure what someone would do in those circumstances. It was hard to see in the sudden darkness of the cave, but she could tell the person was large, about two meters tall and widely built. They, most likely he, was covered in some sort of tattered sackcloth like a blanket. She walked up next to him and bent close. His arms and legs poked out of his covering and were laced with scrapes and bruises, as if he had fallen out of a tall tree and hit every branch on the way down. Then she noticed his skin, the bits that weren’t splattered with blood or dirt were as light as stoned wheat. She only knew of one person with skin that wasn’t dark brown, and he had a very different build. She found the top of his head toward the back of the cave and saw it was crowned with short hair that was some shade of orange. Orange? No one had orange hair. It was like waking up to find the sky had turned purple, and that chinchins were flying through the air. She gingerly picked up the sackcloth and tossed it aside. The man was big, and thickly muscled. She could tell because he was clad only in the tattered remnants of old leather clothes. He had a prominent brow and a strong jaw that sported more orange hair. There were also curls of light brown hair on his chest and legs, and he wore a strange metal necklace that looked like it was worth quite a bit. His injuries covered his whole body, but were worse on his forearms and shoulders, which seemed consistent with a bad fall. She saw his hands. They were as thick and strong as the rest of him, but looked wrong somehow. It was the thumbs, or rather, it wasn’t. He didn’t have any, just blackened stumps that looked raw and recent. Jayx was shocked and appalled, by didn’t flinch away. This was a stranger, a stranger! The few hundred people who lived on Pentamus all knew of each other, and almost all had met at least once or twice by the time they were adults. Except this person. This person was new. Once every few decade two of the gargantuan creatures would pass each other, and it was possible for people to make a rapid one-way trip to a new home, but everyone would have noticed something like that happening. Otherwise, this was simply impossible. But she could figure that out later. Right now she had to get this person help, or they’d likely die of exposure.  
“Crap.” Jayx muttered to herself. The man’s eyes snapped open. They instantly locked on her with a feverish light. He surged forward with some reserve of strength Jayx couldn’t imagine. She reared back and screamed, not in fear, but surprise, almost a war cry. He tried to grasp her by the harness but his grip was weak and he didn’t have any thumbs, so he just sort of smeared his bloody hands on her leather shirt.  
He brought his face mere centimeters from hers and croaked out through parched lips, “They’re coming.” Then, his fevered strength gone, he collapsed at her feet in a heap.  
Jayx stood there, partially frozen in shock. “What?” She said. “What the what?”

 

Vex 1

Vex prowled up the steps of the temple fortress, a tiny figure before the shadow of the sprawling complex. Life-sized bronze statues of the greatest warriors ever to have lived on Warpath lined the steps up to the main entrance. Men and women of myth and legend looked out over the expanse of barracks, supply houses, barns, training grounds, and forges that made up the core of Warpath’s civilization. The statues increased in age and glory as one mounted the steps; and there at the summit, between the most revered founders of Warpath, lounged a pair of corpulent guards in gilded armor. Vex considered Wrack and Hyde to be an utter waste of space and resources. They might have been useful in battle at some point, but were clearly not interested in anything but their own comfort now. It was hard to decide which of the two Oldbloods had a harder time squeezing into their armor. Vex eyed them coldly, each guard filling out the curve of vision created by the helmet’s nose guard. Wrack’s breastplate was tarnished and spotted, and there were visible seams where it had been expanded to accommodate the increased girth as he aged. Hyde sported a mouth half full of yellowed, twisted teeth and Vex didn't relish smelling the man’s breath, even at a distance of several yards. As Vex approached the oversized oaken doors laced with golden filigree, both guards lowered their pikes and called out a challenge. It was obvious that neither man’s heart was really in the call, but at least they straightened up and acted official.  
“Identify!” called Hyde. He stood a good two meters, and Vex’s eyes only came up to his neck. He looked down the curve of his squat nose upon Vex, disdain plain on his jowled face.  
“You know who I am.” Snarled Vex.  
Wrack replied in a droning, dismissive tone, “We can’t be expected to remember every general, captain, and lieutenant who graces us with their presence, and you’re in full battle gear.”  
“I’m Vex. First lieutenant in the Shock Legion. I'm expected at the council.”  
Hyde snorted, his round face scrunching up and multiplying his chins. Wrack responded, “Yes, you are. But,” he continued, resting his spear-butt back on the ground and holding up his hand to check Vex’s forward step. “We haven't seen General Esteban yet, and he was supposed to be here almost half an hour ago.”  
Wrack took over, stating curtly, “No point in you going in if they can’t start without him.”  
“You expect me to fetch him?” Vex asked, voice dripping disdain.  
Hyde replied, “Well, someone should. Of course, you could just wait here with us until he shows.”  
“If he shows.” added Wrack  
“He’s with the recruits?” Vex asked through gritted teeth.  
“That is where you'd expect the Chief Culler to be, right?” Responded Hyde. Wrack snorted. Vex turned heel without another word, walking briskly toward the buildings sectioned off for new recruits.  
Wrack shouted after her, “Course, he could be anywhere, really!”

It took Vex over half an hour to track Esteban to a training field in the recruitment sector. The field was little more than an extensive plot of dirt with obstacles, training dummies, and exercise equipment scattered across its dusty soil. The entire thing was surrounded by walls made of scale and topped with barbed metal.Esteban had a few dozen recruits milling around at one end of the field. A few were clustered around a burly looking man while Esteban was conferring with some of his assistants several yards away. The burly man was almost a head taller than his comrades and seemed built more solidly as well. He was years into his training, judging by the scars that criss crossed his tanned body. His hair, like that of all of the recruits, was shaved practically off; but his beard was full and red, and bobbed as he spoke, accentuating his words. Vex could hear him hollering loudly and impatiently at Esteban. Vex ignored the recruits, as well as the assistants, and headed straight for Esteban.  
“The Triumvirate is waiting on you.” Vex stated matter of factly. “I have been sent to fetch you.” Vex spat distaste into the dirt.  
Esteban turned to Vex, frustration plain on his handsome face. He was older than Vex, in his early forties, his scraggly beard and thinning hair already turning salt and pepper gray. He was wearing his leather armor, designed for practice sparring, and his muscular, yet slightly paunchy frame spilled out the edges. It was the rare person on Warpath that could keep on extra pounds, especially while managing an entire crop of recruits.  
“I know.” he sighed. “I’m stuck until one of my messengers comes back with a champion for Warpath. That idiot over there,” Esteban paused and nodded toward the large man with the large mouth, “has made a challenge for citizenship, and none of the cullers can fight for Warpath.” The large man seemed to notice himself being the topic of conversation.  
“Is this to be my test then?” he asked rhetorically. “Couldn’t you find someone my size? I could just step on that wee little man.” He laughed raucously, as did some of his hangers-on, but other recruits seemed to back away from the huddle. Esteban seemed to wince at the large man’s proclamation, or maybe it was at the slight, grim smile that grew on Vex’s face.  
“Fine then.” Vex proclaimed loud enough for the large man to overhear, “I’ll represent Warpath and the Triumvirate. What is your name?”  
“Carlorn.” Said the man. “Carlorn of The Geared City. And I will be the last thing you ever see, little one.” Some of the large man’s friends slapped him on the back or cheered. “And who do I have the honor of killing to become a Citizen?  
“I am Vex Oldblood, first lieutenant in the Shock Legion of Warpath, and I will remember your name, Carlorn.” The recruits quieted, a pall coming over them at the mention of such a famous name. Carlorn sneered. “Sure you are. The way I hear it Vex is a giant that eats men’s hearts. They say it killed before it could walk, they say it doesn’t even know how to speak. Vex began removing weapons, dropping them so that they landed point-first in the ground. Soon there was a small arsenal of gleaming steel pointing skyward. Vex heard some of the recruits whispering quietly about the name. They murmured, “hundred-slayer” and “doom-of-men”. One of the assistants pointed the two combatants toward some nearby barrels and a table, all of them overflowing with gleaming weaponry used to train. Carlorn selected a large, wicked looking two-headed ax which must have weighed at least thirty pounds. Vex considered carefully, finally selecting a solid-looking, foot-long stiletto that was simple, but sturdy. Carlorn was given a plain breast plate and open-faced helm by an assistant. The two combatants turned back to the others, who had created a circle roughly ten yards in diameter with their bodies. The combatants took up places opposite each other as the ring of recruits and Warpathians closed around them.  
Carlorn snorted at the sight of Vex’s weapon, proclaiming, “I should have done this ages ago. All that training and worrying and they send a boy with a bread knife to fight me!” Some of his compatriots chuckled, but most of the recruits looked grim. They too had heard stories of this monster that destroyed men. Esteban stepped between them and proclaimed,  
“I hereby witness and will judge this challenge for ascendency to citizenship of Warpath by personal duel. The fight is over when the challenger dies, or Warpath’s champion surrenders or dies. Begin!” Esteban lowered his hand and quickly retreated to the ring of onlookers. Many of Carlorn’s friends began cheering and yelling, but most of the recruits, as well as the cullers, remained quiet. Carlorn walked confidently forward, keeping his guard up and cautiously closing the distance between them. Vex spun the knife, testing its weight, then held it in an underhand grip behind the back. Esteban jabbed with the ax and Vex dodged nimbly to the side. He tried a slow feint next, followed by a quick backswing. Vex slid around the blows and continued sideways, making sure not to get pushed towards the edge of the crowd. Vex waited patiently for an opening, like a cobra daring its prey to come just a bit closer. Two more swings nearly connected with Vex, but were dodged with a liquid grace that seemed impossible in the clunky armor. More of the recruits started cheering now, beginning to believe that the champion was faltering. Finally Carlorn overextended, his frustration getting the better of him. He took a half step forward and swung the ax out and upward with his right hand, hoping to force Vex back against the crowd. Vex jumped high and back, planting feet against the chest of a recruit and launching forward as the ax swung past, only a few centimetres away. Closing the distance, Vex whipped out the knife and drove it through the man’s right wrist, while using the other hand to grab onto the neck rim of his breastplate. Carlorn screamed and grabbed at Vex with his free hand, but was unable to get a solid grip. Vex released the knife and launched upward, twisting lithely and ramming the left horn of the helm through the man’s right eye and then pushing off his chest with powerful legs to land several feet away in a prepared crouch. Carlorn teetered for a moment, his remaining eye staring blankly, his mouth lolling open; then crashed to the ground at Vex’s feet, his massive body sending up a plume of dust where it fell.  
The crowd was silent. The men nearest Vex backed away slowly. Esteban approached Vex and stated simply, “Right. That’s settled then. Anyone else want to challenge while we have a champion present?” The silence was absolute. Vex undid the chin strap and removed the bloody helm. Her long, braided hair spilled out and flowed down her back, reaching almost to her knees. She placed her palm under her chin and stretched her neck back and forth, eliciting a series of pops from her vertebrae. Her lavender eyes peered out of a hawkish face with sharp angles, set with a small mouth and pointed nose. She was just over one and a half metres tall, with wide shoulders and hips, and carried herself with the dangerous calm of a grizzled veteran. Her olive skin was laced with scars and fresh bruises, and she was missing the pinky finger on her left hand and a wedge of flesh out of her right ear.  
She turned to Esteban, her face calm and distant, her breath steady and even. “Can we go now?” Vex asked, “We’re late enough as it is.” She began collecting her weapons, placing swords, knives, and a small warhammer in their appropriate spots. She handed her bloody helm to one of the assistant cullers. “Have this cleaned, shined, and sent to the Bitter End. I’ll retrieve it later. She also handed her a small strip of gold retrieved from a pouch at her waist.  
“Of course, lieutenant.” the woman replied, and hurried off to comply. Esteban barked a few quick orders to the stunned crowd and the assistant cullers began herding the remaining recruits back toward their respective barracks. Two of Carlorn’s friends were tasked with hauling his body to the hog farms. Vex turned on a heel and started walking away, briskly enough so that Esteban had to jog to catch up.  
“Shame about that big oaf.” Esteban said conversationally, “If he had had a little more patience he could have made captain. I hear rumors that we're already on the trail of a big one.”  
“Or, Vex began, “he could have lead a whole squad of better men to their deaths. He was a dull fool. Only the sharpest blades are worthy of Warpath.” There was no anger or disgust in her voice. “Was that the whole lot of them back there?” She asked, turning her sharp eyes to her old friend.  
Esteban let out an audible sigh. “That's fully half of what we have left that have any real potential. The Triumvirate is going to be disappointed, but even I can't turn stone into steel.” he said.  
“It's your duty to remove the unfit.” she replied, “Anything less would only harm us in the end. I'm much more concerned that there are still some among them that will falter or fail when they are truly tested.”  
“They go through much of what we did.” Esteban replied. “If they pass my standards, they’re fit to see combat.  
Vex snorted. “Kuh. And the ones that survive their first battle might just be worth their rations.”  
“Aye.” Esteban replied. “You never know what you have until battle sharpens them up a bit.” They walked in silence after that, Vex setting a brisk pace despite her lesser height. As they approached the massive gold-laced doors Hyde opened his, visibly straining with the weight. He straightened up as Esteban walked by.  
“Sir.” Hyde said, addressing Esteban. Once they had passed he added just loud enough for Vex to hear, “...and guest.” Esteban and Vex walked down several corridors lined with old weapons, works of art, and preserved vellum writings.  
“Why don’t you just kill that hog?” Esteban asked, once they were out of earshot.  
“He’s not worth killing.” she replied curtly. “Besides, killing any old-timer in the Golden Legion is just asking for reprisals, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my days wondering who's going to come after me next, all because I got annoyed with some big-mouthed fool.” Esteban didn’t respond, he just nodded sagaciously and scanned the spoils of war as they passed them. Warpath finished it’s step then, rattling trophies on their wall hooks and causing Vex and Esteban to crouch and regain their footing.  
“By the Fury, we’re late.” Vex cursed. Esteban nodded curtly and began walking more quickly.  
WIthin a few minutes they had arrived at the Council Chamber. Esteban knocked twice on the sturdy but unadorned door, then entered. This wasn’t the grandiose Meeting Hall, with room for hundreds and a raised dais for the Triumvirate. That was the room where the leaders would announce what was decided in this room. The Council Chamber much smaller and more efficacious. It had space for only a few dozen at most, with chairs lining the wall and a large table set in the center. The table was flat and made of pine, its single piece shaped roughly like Warpath, with six columnar legs supporting the sides and a tapered head that rose above the level of the table and was decorated with a golden bust and six tiny emeralds for eyes. It was a magnificent work of art, truly one of the best things to come out of the artist’s sector. There were leather scrolls and maps spread across the table, as well as charcoal for writing. Most notably, the room had no raised area or special chairs for the Triumvirate; this was one of the only places you could speak with them as equals, when the time for questions had come, of course.  
Everyone was already inside, talking quietly in small clusters and clearly waiting for their last two invitees to arrive. The Quartermaster was in the middle of telling a humorous story to several of the other Masters. Most of the generals and their first lieutenants were clustered near the tables head, speaking in hushed tones, and the Triumvirate themselves were against the far wall, chatting casually. They all looked up as the two entered, Vex making sure to remain a step behind Esteban, as was appropriate to her rank. She spotted Storm, her general, and quickly walked to stand behind him. He winked at her as she approached, then faced the Triumvirate like everyone else. She wished he wouldn’t do things like that, it was- distracting. Vex knew he meant it in a familiar, camaraderie, sort of way, but it still made her feel things she knew weren’t reciprocal.  
The Triumvirate were standing against the far wall, quietly waiting and watching. Vex saw Black Knives leaning against a support beam. He wore black leather and a black cloak, and she spotted the nonreflective painted pommels of his namesake scattered about his person. He was short, with a slender frame, and he had the unnerving habit of blending into the background. He sported a thin mustache above his thinner lips, and kept his long, black hair bound back and under his hood. Knives had sunken, beady eyes that flitted nervously and missed nothing. Vex knew he rarely spoke, but his mind was as sharp as his blades and almost as dangerous.  
The Triumvir on the left broke from the others leaning against the far wall and approached the table. He was called Bear, and appropriately named. He was a mountain of a man, well over two metres tall, and built like he was made of one solid piece of stone. He wore sturdy leather armor and breeches that were well-fitted to his frame. Scraggly brown hair tumbled down his back and merged with a bristly beard that shrouded his chest. There were streaks of white in his hair and beard now, but his age didn’t seem to be slowing him down. Bear was a gruff, utilitarian sort of leader, and he did most of the talking for the Triumvirate. He wore a plain-looking longsword at his waist, but everyone knew he didn’t need it. Bear was a monster in combat, utilizing whatever weapon was nearest, and not afraid to get in close and use his superior mass as an advantage. Vex had once seen him pick up an enemy soldier from behind and turn him into a ram, knocking the man’s comrades around like they weighed nothing. Granted, that was years ago, but it had been longer than that since anyone had even talked about challenging him for leadership.  
“Good, thats everyone.” he began, his low voice neither pleased nor angry. “You know I like to get right to it. I’ve heard the rumors going around that we found another target. They’re true.” Bear leaned forward on the table and continued, “Our long-eyed scouts have found tracks leading Eastwards and likely less than two days old. Based on their size and positioning it’s a big one, possibly even equal to Warpath.” This elicited some raised eyebrows and glances around the room.  
“Good.” thought Vex. She was aching for a real battle, something worth remembering, unlike the last few raids which had barely seen any fighting at all. She was tired of keeping her troops occupied, keeping them sharp, keeping them from fighting other Warpathians. Bloody victory was what she had been bred for and raised to do; fury gave her purpose.  
Bear continued, “I know our last few raids have been against smaller targets, but we finally got a real challenge for ourselves. I doubt anyone here has ever been involved in a target this big. Luckily, I believe we are in ideal condition to attempt it.” He scanned the room, his brown eyes sharp. Then he straightened up and began snapping quick questions, looking at each Master in turn.  
“Grain?” Bear began.  
“10% over consumption, reserves are nearly full.” came the reply.  
“Water reserves?”  
“The collectors from the Geared City are working near capacity. Without any rain we can last nearly six months.”  
“Pigs?”  
“Uh, Swimming in ‘em.”  
“Armament?”  
“Still retrofitting our haul from the Geared City, but we’re prepared to march tomorrow if need be.”  
“Good.” Bear stated. You know what to do. Prepare for an occupation, and for raid immigrants.” He turned to the generals now, “The Golden Legion is at capacity with 100. Storm, how are the Shock Troops?”  
“96.” came his curt reply.  
Bear nodded. He asked the same of the other two legion generals.  
“92.” “99.” came the replies.  
“Start pulling from the unassigned.” he commanded. “We want them full within a week.” Next he turned to Esteban. “Where do we stand with the recruits?” he asked.  
There was a moment’s hesitation as Esteban considered. “They’re ready for their first battle.” he replied. You should expect 60 or so. I know that’s a lower conversion rate than usual, but the Geared City has proven to be a poor source. I think most anyone who could really fight fell when we took it.  
Vex scowled. If you could call that a fight. My troops were on the front lines. We earned that privilege, and barely any of us even got our hands wet. The thirty-three troops under her direct command were so disappointed, she had set them up in a looted taven that first night just to mollify them. Her command must have drunk their weight in ale that night. It had taken Vex six pints of beer and the company of a good man to salve that disappointment. It had become an inside joke among her troops that in the next raid they would bring along a barrel full of ale and two good women, just in case it didn’t prove a real fight. She had joked back that the ale and the women should be blonde.  
“60? That’s disappointing,” came a low, feminine voice from behind Bear, “but not unexpected.” Vindicator peeled herself off the far wall, her red hair streaming five feet down her back until it almost scraped the ground. She was dressed in formal light brown leather covered with stylized roc’s heads and had two short swords slung across her back, one grip above each shoulder. Vindicator had soft features and a round face, which belied her rough demeanor and quick temper. She was considered tough, but fair, and had proven herself a master strategist. When she spoke, smart people shut their mouths and listened.  
“You’ve always done an excellent job of separating the seeds from the fruit.” Vindicator looked over at Bear, who nodded and stepped back from the table. Vindicator approached, and took over the council. “Our last two raids were very successful.” she began, “That, combined with some of the long term advances in medicine after the conquest of the Ice Clan, have put us in an awkward new position.” She paused for effect. “There’s too many of us.” She stated bluntly. “If this raid goes as well as the last few, we won’t have enough food to go around. The Triumvirate has been thinking on this for quite some time, and we believe it’s time to colonize.” This garnered surprised looks from everyone present, except for the Triumvirs.  
“Once we control this target we will set up an occupation.” Vindicator continued smoothly, “Roughly a third of Warpath’s strength will move permanently onto the new creature. This core group, along with half the survivors of the invasion, will make up the colony. We will keep the linking bridge in place until we can ferry across enough metal to harness this new beast, and create a second Warpath.” She paused a few moments, in order for this new information to sink in. “I will move as well, and once there, will select two others to create a new Triumvirate with me. We will be taking volunteers until our quota is reached, assuming there are enough people interested. Otherwise we’ll determine a fair randomization system. We’re letting you all know this several days in advance of the announcement to the general population so you can think on your options. We would like two full legions worth of veteran soldiers to move to the colony. Once the move is complete, the army here will be reorganized as necessary.” By now there was a general hum of whispering and Vindicator waited patiently for it to die down. “I know, this is something new in our history. It hasn’t been done before. But, we believe it is best for Warpath, and best for the citizenry.”  
Bear stepped back up to the table. “We’ll be turning Warpath tonight.” He pointed to the Master of steerage. “Talk to me when this is over, I’ll get you the exact positioning.” We estimate we should be within scoping distance of the beast within weeks, and alongside it a few months after that. We’ll be making a general announcement at noon in two days in the Meeting Hall, so spread the word, but keep everything discussed here private for now. If you have anything you’d like to say, please stay and talk with us. Otherwise, you all know you’re duties.”  
The council broke up into small groups again. Everyone was talking about whether they thought they should join the colony. Storm turned around and faced Vex. “Well,” he sighed, “that was unexpected.” Vex opened her mouth to speak, even though she wasn’t sure what she was going to say. She had known a second ago, but then Storm had turned around and done that thing with his hair and- now he was holding his hand up to stop her from talking. “Don’t tell me yet. Meeting. At my place at sundown. You, me, the other two Lieutenants. We’ll all discuss it then. Can you track them down?”  
Vex regained her composure. “I can find them.” she replied.  
“Good.” Storm replied. Tell them not to bring any mates. We’ll fill them in on the details. Word will get out in no time anyway. And bring your hunger. Minerva is roasting a whole pig.” He turned and left then, flashing her a quick smile on the way.  
Vex smiled back, but then realized he had already left. Ugh.Minerva and her damnable cooking. I’m convinced that’s more than half the reason he stays with her. Fragile little doll. I could break her with both hands behind my back. Vex noticed Vindicator approaching her side of the room. She subtly scanned her surroundings, but didn’t see anyone else nearby. Vindicator was clearly approaching her. Vex braced herself, adopting her most formal stance.  
“Vex.” purred Vindicator. Vex found it immediately unnerving that the woman spoke her name so casually. It also didn’t help that VIndicator was half a head taller than Vex, or that she was known for thinking several moves ahead of everyone she interacted with. “Please, walk with me.” Vindicator continued. She took Vex’s arm and led her from the Council Room. She led Vex while they walked, but it was in a different direction than she had arrived by, and Vex wasn’t very familiar with the layout inside the temple fortress. Vindicator spoke as she walked, setting a casual, almost relaxed pace. “I’ve been keeping an ear on you for a while.”  
That's not a good sign. To attract the attention of the rulers of Pentamus was generally bad for one’s health. But, what she said was, “I am honored, Triumvir.” Vindicator gave her a sideways glance that was either amused or looking for weakness. Seeing as it came from Vindicator, it could easily have been both.  
Vindicator continued, “You're a good leader. You enforce discipline, but respect your troops. You embrace combat, but don't seek it out.” She stopped walking then, and faced Vex directly. They were in another hall lined with trophies and relics. There was a shattered sword on a pedestal to her left, and a tattered banner featuring a skull and bones to her right. Vindicator looked directly into her eyes with a penetrating gaze that could intimidate a room full of veterans. “How do you feel about Warpath?” she asked, her tone flat and even.  
Vex swallowed. This was a test, but she didn't know what it was meant to discover. Had the compliments been meant to set her at ease? Was Vindicator trying to root out dissent or weakness within the upper echelons? Vex decided she would respond truthfully, but would choose her words carefully.  
“I think we have brought Warpath to new heights of glory and splendor. I think our ancestors would be proud.” she said.  
Vindicator held her gaze for a moment. Then a corner of her mouth twitched up in a slight smile. “Our ancestors were slaves.” she responded, “Slaves that managed to outlive their comrades. I doubt they had us in mind.” Vex held her tongue, waiting for Vindicator to give more of her intentions away. She didn’t have to wait long.  
“I love Warpath,” Vindicator continued, turning to face down the hall, “but it could be so much more. We could do so much more with what we have. But these people hate risks, they hate change, unless it’s something to make their lives softer or easier. You have no idea how many times those two men back there have voted down my plans. How many compromises I’ve had to endure.”  
Vex thought for a moment, then responded, choosing her words carefully so as to not say anything too subversive, “Requiring unanimity was designed to resist change. Apart from adapting to new methods of warfare, medicine, or food production, we’re not supposed to change.” then, after a pause, she added, “Are we?”  
Vindicator looked back at her then, and her voice had lost some of its calm. “If we allowed some of our people, not just the sharpest, but anyone who wanted, to do things other than train to fight, we could become so much more. It only takes a quarter of our population to feed the rest of us. We could advance ourselves, instead of pillaging our improvements from others, like stripping meat from the dead bones.”  
“That’s- a good idea.” Vex said, believing that this might be something other than a test after all. “We haven’t suffered a loss in ages. There’s no reason we have to focus solely on drills and training. What we took from the Geared City improved our army far more than anyone could have expected. The others-”  
“The others lack vision.” Vindicator interrupted, “They are content to sit atop the pile and watch it grow. They’re more interested in who has the biggest house, the largest pile of gold, they’re obsessed with-” she trailed off, then sighed and rolled her eyes. “They’re men.” she stated, as if it explained all her frustrations.  
Vex saw it then, what Vindicator had been moving towards. “You plan on leaving.” she said slowly, “You’re going to found the colony. And you want to leave all the men behind.”  
Vindicator looked at her and smiled, “Well, not all the men. But yes, I plan on taking mostly women with me.”  
“You convinced the rest of the Triumvirate to go along with this?” Vex asked, incredulous.  
“They would prefer to stay here on their fat- piles. But they wouldn’t let me take nearly half the women with me, at least not until I promised them that every woman and girl we find on that beast would be sent back to Warpath.”  
“And you keep the surviving men.” Vex finished her thought.  
“We keep the men.” Vindicator corrected. Vex snapped her head up to Vindicator’s face.  
“We?” she asked.  
Vindicator explained, “I need two others to rule with me. I said you were a good leader.” Vex was stunned. The announcement at the council, and now this, it was just too much to take in for one day. Vindicator continued, “I want you with me. You don’t have to decide now. Get back to me in a couple of days. Even if you’d rather stay as a Lieutenant, I’d like you to come with us, and I’d like you to bring as many hard fighters and good thinkers as you can gather up. We’ll need them.” Vindicator approached her then and placed her hand on Vex’s arm. “We’ll need you.” she said, holding her gaze. There was something soft and genuine in her voice then, and Vex wondered just how long she had been planning, and how much forethought she had put into those plans.  
Vex cleared her throat and returned the look. “After the first day of training. I’ll tell you then.” she said.  
Vindicator let go of her arm and smiled disarmingly. “Good.” she said, “Good. Bring a list, anyone you think would be worth having with us.” Her smile widened then, and she turned gracefully on her heel and walked back the way they had come. Vex watched her turn the corner at the end of the hall, then she released a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. She looked around herself then, clearing her head.  
“By all the- “ she said softly to herself, and walked toward the stern exit of the temple fortress.


End file.
